BEING COMMITTED for DUMMIES
by StirOfEchoes1984
Summary: A South of Nowhere story set to the music of Julia Nunes... STORY ABANDONED...for now. :(
1. Chapter 1 : First Impressions

**Disclaimer : As always, South isn't mine.**

**Author's Note : What better way to start out a new story than with a sex scene? ;) South-related ofcourse. What can I say, I love that show. The characters are pretty fucked up individuals in this one. Each is committed into an isolated asylum, Haven House, for an experiment of sorts. OCD, multiple personality disorders, eating disorders/body image issues, depression/suicidal tendencies, severe aggression, and night terrors are among the psychological studies involved in the experiment, and what the characters will have.**  
><strong><br>But most importantly, the idea for this story came from the music of Julia Nunes. Oddly enough, the first thing I thought of was a nut house. I was going to make this a Glee story, but I'm pretty sure there's one out there somewhere. This will probably be the last SON story I write on this thing though. Who knows. Each chapter will be a track off her albums, and will have lyrics throughout them.**

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><p><strong>BEING COMMITTED for DUMMIES<strong>

**Chapter One: First Impressions**

_I've gotten used to being introduced._  
><em>Hello? What's your name? How are you?<em>  
><em>They see my smile, my laugh, and the hurt behind my eyes.<em>  
><em>Loss is not so easily disguised.<br>_

Sex was something that had been put on the slow burner with the two of them. Spencer and Robin been friends since eighth grade, and were never really concerned about the subject of their non-platonic intimacy, or lack thereof. It'd always been just them, and that's all they needed, really. In their eyes, they were _best friends_; no one would come between them. So, no one did, at least for awhile there. Until they'd started to grow up and life got more complicated than that. The two of them could've been considered _emo_ in rank among the social classes, outcasts, so, they were used to being the but of a few jokes and subject to many eye rolls. That was, until a few years later, when others had picked up on their closeness, instantly causing more whispers and murmurs in the hallways of their school. Spencer was even bullied on a weekly basis, much to Robin's dismay, but she made her swear to secrecty. Because Spencer's mother was very catholic, if she'd known her teenage daughter was a lesbian, she would've gotten sent to some de-gay camp in Connecticut. Away from Robin for god knows how long, and Spencer couldn't let that happen. Her mother could barely handle their friendship as it was, always commenting on Robin's delinquency corrupting her daughter. After months of denial and awkward confessions, the who teenagers finally grew a pair, deciding to give whatever their relationship was a shot. In the five months of their _secret_ relationship, Spencer and Robin flirted, touched, and even exchanged innuendo throughout much of their time together. Their first and only time making love was spontaneous, something they'd stumbled upon one night while Spencer's parents were working late. Just minutes after Spencer had confided in Robin that she'd been cutting herself for weeks, something that she'd promised her girlfriend she'd never do again. It had been almost a year since last time, and she'd thought she was doing so well. Apparently not.

Robin rolled onto her side on Spencer's bed, silently placing her hand on the blonde's hip. Spencer had been lying on her back beside her, unable to stop the tears from falling. She felt so ashamed, helpless. Her best friend had been so quiet since her confession, the complete opposite of how Spencer thought she'd react inside her head. After a moment, hazel-green eyes met Spencer's, bloodshot from crying, and they were quiet a second longer than their normal quiet together. It was one of their signals. Perfectly naturally. It meant, _it s okay, I love you_. Without speaking, Robin reaches up, unbuttoning Spencer's jacket, slowly. The blonde's breath catches in her throat, chest arching at the feel of Robin's fingertips grazing her stomach. The jacket falls away, no longer needed.

"Show me." She'd tried to sound firm, but Robin's voice shakes a little. She's nervous, they both are.

The blonde watched shamefully as her best friend pulls her T-shirt up. Robin watches her watery blue eyes intently, slips her fingers under her T-shirt. Touches the warm skin at the sides of her slim waist, drawling her hands upward. Feels the_ scars_. At that moment, a wave of insecurity hits the blonde, and she makes a swift move to cover herself.

"No, Spence, _show me_," Her best friend had whispered, lips trembling.

The words seemed to hold more meaning than an outsider looking in could fathom, an unspoken communication the two of them had formed over the course of their relationship. A dare. It meant, _show me _you_, what you are when no one's looking_. She would. Blue eyes close in defeat, and another tear slides like a knife down her burning cheek. She'd felt so bare, exposed. An alien feeling when it came to being with Robin. Part of her wanted to throw Robin's touch away, and run out of the room, but a bigger part loved her best friend more. Robin stretches her neck, leaving a gentle, soothing kiss against the blonde's lips before touching the skin of her hip lightly, faintly wondering if the older scars were still there. She tugs at the fabric of the T-shirt, pulling it over Spencer's shoulders, and discarding it to the floor. A cold breeze hit her from the front, swirling around her, and cooling the nervous sweat of her neck and freezing her. Spencer breathes a shaky breath underneath her best friend s glazed eyes, consciously crossing her arms over her bare breasts, feeling herself getting goosebumps. But Robin doesn't give in, gently lifting away her arms, stringing their fingers together on one hand. The other is tracing the self-inflicted injuries in question, running just below her right breast and into her side. She remarks them carefully, judging them to be at least a week old, and nods curtly in agreement. Spencer sits up, arms folding over herself again, and unable to take the best friend's scrutiny any longer. It was only twisting the knife.

Crying harder, she turns away. "I'm so sorry, Robby. I'm so fucking sorry."

It's pointless, given that she'd said those same words dozens of times before, and maybe they'd lost any meaning to either of them now. But then, maybe they haven't, because Robin slips into her. Slips her arms around her waist. Because Robin's kissing her neck and she's falling, turning her head to find her mouth on her lips. Because her back is against the sheets again, and the guilt and regret she's feeling had seemed to fade into the background. Something strange and primal in feeling overcomes the both of them then, something that scared and excited her at the same time. Minutes pass, and Spencer's ripping open Robin's blouse, pulling it from her tanned form without mercy, until there's only skin against skin. Giving into fire in her chest and the tears in her eyes, Spencer's tracing Robin's pale jaw with her fingertips, and kissing Robin harder, their tongues tasting each other madly and Spencer's pressing into her and Robin into her, bodies shivering.

"I love you, kid," Robin gasps between kisses, rolling them over on the bed until she was staring down into blue, chest heaving heavily. She swallows, holding herself up with one arm, and nods fervently, an unreadable glint in her eyes. "Imma' show you that—that you're beautiful. That no matter what you're scared of, I'm not leaving you, _ever_."

As if on cue, she felt Robin's hand, hot, small, on her thigh underneath the sheets that incased them. Spencer takes in a sharp breath, closed her eyes. Waited. It rose and curved smoothly, hot against her, pressing just right against the sensitive nerves between her legs. Fingers strain at cotton, and Spencer moans lowly, digging her fingers into the back of her best friend's neck. The brunette above her is silent, her dilated eyes focused solely on the reactions of the girl underneath her. Sweat forms on her forehead, fingers drawing quick, tight circles around the nerves that seem already to be stretched to the breaking point. Minutes pass, and it doesn't take long for her breathing to become short and shallow as the girl's hand moves faster, creating even more fantastic friction between them until Robin's leaning down, and kissing her hard, knowingly, because Spencer's crying out, tightening around her fingers seconds later, and her moan reverberating throughout the small bedroom. And Spencer's grateful for the bruised lips covering her own, because they muffle the explosion threatening to rip loose and echo throughout the entire neighborhood.

Those same fingers find hers, stringing together against the sheets, as they both caught their breath. Blue eyes flickered above her, into Robin's somewhat anxious, insecure expression, and breathless giggles leave her lips. Robin raises her eyebrows questioningly, and she knows exactly what's going through the brunette's head. God, she was so fucking cute.

"I love you too," she's rasping out, calming her best friend's nerves. "So damn much, Robby. That was amazing, I can't even..."

Just then Robin breathes out, unashamedly relieved. "Damn straight."

Spencer's giggling breathlessly, pulling the girl down by her neck, and connecting their lips. Approximately nine, amazingly peaceful minutes would pass by them, and after that nine minutes, her mother would be making her way up the stairs and swinging her bedroom door open. Thankfully, the low threat that follows only involves a two-minute escape, or, she'd pull her out by her hair herself. Much, much more tame than Spencer had been expecting. Forty seconds after that, she's watching her best friend, barely dressed, pulling her jeans up boyish hips frantically.

_So, save me from waking up tonight._  
><em>I toss and turn, and it doesn't feel right.<em>  
><em>Please, save me from waking up tonight.<em>

"We'll be okay, kid, alright?" she said softly, cradling the slightly-freaked-out blonde's face in her hands. "Whatever happens now, it'll be fine. Even if she grounds you, forbids you to see me, I'll find you. Okay? I love you."

Spencer could only nod, barely registering the murmured 'I love you too' that leaves her lips as she watches Robin stumble out her window and onto the grass of her lawn about nine feet below. Her best friend waves, mouthing a few more words of assurance, before sprinting off down the street before her mother shot her down. The blonde turns away from the window, absolutely dreading what was coming to her in the coming minutes. But also, she'd found herself feeling something else; a sort of bitter twinge against her heart. Something a little like foreboding, and it scared Spencer to death. Because, whatever it was, it wouldn't let her go no matter how much she tried. Something was wrong.

Two hours into her newly sentenced grounding, Spencer's home phone rings.

She remembers the silence that follows, the slow, careful footsteps her mother made up the stairs and down the hall to her room. The look on her mother's face, a mixture between shock and bewilderment. Spencer stares up at her mother, partly still angry, although the way she was staring at her was starting to freak her out even more. When she questions her, the older Carlin woman opens her mouth, and then closes it.

"That was Robin's parents. They're at the hospital." Her mother, Paula, looks down to the floor, grasping for the words. Spencer's stomach turns, and she thinks she's going to be sick. Because she just knows what her mother's going to say. Still, it doesn't stop her from shaking her head in denial, or the tears welling in her eyes. "Robin, she—Spencer, she was hit by a drunk driver on her way home. I'm so sorry, Spencer. She didn't make it."

Her mother takes a step towards her, but Spencer's already on her knees, sobbing harder than she'd ever done in her entire life. Her whole body seemed to be a blender of emotions, from outrage to terror to bewilderment to guilt to sorrow and then back again to outrage. Spencer locks herself in her room for three days after that night. In that time, she doesn't eat, and barely even slept. Whoever she was didn't matter anymore, not without Robin next to her, which only fueled her downward spiral. She couldn't even bring herself to go to Robin's funeral, let alone to school where everyone would look at her with that pity that goes along with the death of a loved one. Spencer couldn't do it, any of it. It hurt _so much_, even just to think about her. Soon, her rage towards her mother, towards everything, would burn down to a smoldering self pity, then to numbness. All around her, the options seemed to be narrowing, as if she were hurtling down a huge black tunnel, the whole world squeezing in tight. In the month that passes, Spencer turns into herself, shutting out the world around her all together.

One night, just days before the summer began, and fifty-six minutes after her parents go to bed, Spencer sneaks down the stairs of her Ohio home for the first time in months. Takes a kitchen knife, and slits her wrists.

Empty blue eyes drift, down to the blood pooling at her feet. Before her vision goes, the last thing she sees is her best friend's smiling face inside her head.

_Because my dreams are filled with pleasantries,_  
><em>that makes me think you re here with me.<em>  
><em>But I miss you, and that's something I can't hide.<em>

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><p>Spencer Carlin leans against her father's car, giving the ominous building that was to be her home for the summer another bitter, blank stare. It was three stories tall, and much more intimidating than her therapist had set it out to be. Then again, Spencer didn't exactly read the pamphlets she'd given her last week, to which she had been forced to give her a particularly ugly go-away stare before shoving them in her bag. Once safely down the hall, she had quickly threw them in the trash. Now, she'd wish she would've at least looked at one. She bet there would've been a section call," Suicides: Dos and Don'ts for the Depressed."<p>

The young teen groans, folding her arms over her chest, careful not to open up her wounds too much by the action. Mainly in part because she'd get bitched, not the pain part. That, she'd might've looked forward to. The bandages on her wrists itched, and the anti-depressants they've doped her up with were giving her a horrible headache. Nevertheless, these side-effects of her failed suicide attempt are what she was going to have to deal with for awhile, whether she liked it or not. Especially now that she's going to be monitored every hour on the hour like some kind of careless child.

"Spencer? You ready to head inside?"

Taking a breath, Spencer pushes back her newly brown hair just enough to meet her father's eyes. She doesn't respond, though, but she's sure he'd lost all hope on that since she'd woke up in that hospital bed just days ago. Reluctantly, Spencer takes her father's hand, and lets him lead her up the steps leading to the building's entrance. It resided on top of a deserted hill surrounded by trees a couple miles from town. The situation faintly reminded her of House on the Haunted Hill, a very fitting comparison to her life as of late. A complete and total fucking nightmare.

The master entrance of the building had been blessed with a medieval arched doorway and a double window on the north side overlooking the town. The scenery was very striking; something Spencer wouldn't mind drawing later on. If she was being forced to be here, why not do a little painting or something to distract her from wanting to hang herself from that damn archway. Her dad knocks three times, and their soon met by a very short, blonde young woman with glasses smiling up at them. Judging from her overhearing her dad and the said blonde's conversation on the phone a few days ago, Spencer guessed this was Julia, the group's therapist. Fucking great.

"Welcome to Haven House," Julia says, grinning broadly.  
>"You must be Arthur Carlin, and his daughter, Spencer. We've been waiting for you."<p>

"Forgive the coldness, Matt's kind of iffy on germs," She says, laughing, much too quirky for Spencer's liking. Spencer's tugging her sweater closer, feeling the mentioned climate hitting her like a slap in the face compared to the heat outside. "Have to keep it at a constant 70 degrees, or, he'll start stomping around like a toddler."

Julia turns with a smile as she gave them a quick tour, sneakers clicking cheerfully and echoing back at her through the spacious entry way, into the dining room with a working fireplace, through the mess hall, and finally circling back to the main hall just in time to hear a girl scream. It was a terrible scream and paralyzed all three of them for a second, and then there was a crash of something heavy to the floor upstairs, and Julia was running for the stairs. Spencer and her father exchanged quick looks, before sprinting up the stairs behind her. On her way up the stairs, she glanced out of the tall, narrow windows spaced out up the wall, taking note of the huge backyard. Coming to the top of the stairs, they found Julia at the end of the hall ushering a young black girl toward us. Spencer raises an eyebrow, noting the tears in her eyes as she passed.

"I'm so sorry, but there's a situation with one of my patients," Julia apologizes, giving the sobbing girl over to an older man who takes her down the stairs and out of view. "He has an anger problem, and sometimes, he just explodes. That was his girlfriend, Chelsea, his only visitor since he's been here-"

"Julia, get the hell in here!" Someone screamed, seconds before two wrestling bodies hurtled across the hall from one room, into another. "God damnit, Clay, stop! He's not calming down, I can't hold him!"

"Crap! Hold on, for a sec?" Julia pleads, red-faced and apologetic with determination. Before Spencer's father can even respond, the two bodies are stumbling back into the hallway, slamming into the wall a few times, and crashing onto the floor. "Danny, get me his meds!"

The small blonde dropped to her knees beside the growling teenager once they'd pinned him down, hands shaking as she prepared a syringe, and quickly stabbing the needle into the bulging dark brown skin of his arm. She stood helplessly, alternating between the scene in front of her and the strangers peeking out from behind the other rooms on the floor. Although her father's grip around her hand tightened and backed them away, his daughter couldn't help her curiosity. Spencer watches with wide eyes as the boy's struggling slowed dramatically, his chest rising and falling with uneven rapidity and labor. Seconds pass, and everything seemed to be quiet once again through Haven House.

"Night, night, Clay," Julia whispers, touching the sedated boy's cheek, before standing to her feet. "He should be out for a few hours. Danny, Aiden, take him to his room, okay?"

The other young man who'd been fighting with Clay nods obediently, throwing one of his limp arms over his shoulder while the older man, Danny, does the same with his other arm. They looked on silently as they carried the unconscious boy off, disappearing around the corner. Spencer's eyes drift, to a slender arm grasping a doorframe at the end of the hall, and the small feminine form half hiding behind it. The young brunette looked to be around her age, but the bags under her eyes made her look older than she was. She'd been crying during the whole thing, bloodshot eyes glued to the scene playing in front of her. It reminded her almost of a beaten puppy. A second later, those sad eyes are meeting Spencer's, digging into her heart like a knife. An odd sensation, compared to the numbness that'd accompanied her thoughts these days.

"I'm so sorry, that doesn't happen often, I assure you," Julia's reassuring her father, gently motioning them in the other direction. "Let's finish the tour, shall we? Then we can get Spencer settled into her room."

Spencer over her shoulder as Julia ushered them away towards the stairs, returning her attention towards the stranger behind the door. She's not surprised to find that she was still surveying the three of them, that same broken expression on her face. To Spencer surprise, someone else joins the girl at the door, a taller brunette with glasses with much paler skin, and just as, if not more, attractive. Curious, Spencer stays behind a second longer behind the others, noting the resemblance between the two, enough to deduce that they were sisters.

The taller teenager locks eyes with Spencer, her mocha, sun stained eyes regarding her with a particular polite reciprocal curiosity. Then, she's laying a hand on her sister's shoulder, gently pushing her into their room until she can't see her anymore. A second later, and after one lingering glance at Spencer, she too disappears behind the doorframe. Spencer frowns at the vacant space where the two beauties had stood, a little unnerved by the whole experience. She stands like this for several seconds until her father calls for her, and guides her back down stairs.

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><p><strong>R&amp;R.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2 : A Welcome Vacation Part I

**Disclaimer: South isn't mine.**

**Author's Note: Slightly edited for any newbies reading. Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two : A Welcome Vacation (Part I)<strong>

_Spencer's eyes close against her best friend's shoulder, feeling warm lips pressing idly against her palm. They'd spent the last half hour of their Saturday afternoon just watching TV and completely ignoring the Valentine's Day buzz going on around them. That was, until the sound of their front door slamming decided to mess it all up. Robin and Spencer looked up from the television to see her mother barreling towards them excitedly, hands hiding conspiratorially behind her back. The two of them exchange a glance, Robin shrugging against her._

_"So, Spencer, sweetie," Her mother chimes, practically singing the words. Paula Carlin is unshamefully beaming, much to Spencer's embarrassment, shoulders swaying. "I went to check the mail, and guess what I found outside the door?"_

_"You're sanity?" Robin snorts under her breath, earning an elbow jab in the ribs from her girlfriend. Spencer stands to her feet making sure to swat at the brunette's shoulder for good measure._

_"What was it?" The blonde asks._

_"Three bouquets of lilies for you!'' Paula screams, pulling said bundle of lilies from behind her back. "Isn't that the _sweetest_ thing you've ever seen?"_

_"Ain't it so?" Robin asks, from the couch with mock-astonishment. "Golly-gee, Mrs. Carlin, is there a card too?"_

_"In fact, there is!" The older Carlin exclaims, completely oblivious to Robin's tone as she read whatever the card had entailed out loud. Then, she literally _swoons_. Spencer fights the urge to puke and stomp on Robin's foot at the same time. "Spencer, that's just so romantic! Why didn't you tell me you had your eye on someone? Especially someone this sweet?"_

_"Yeah, kid, fess up," Robin cuts through, before Spencer could manage a reply. She watches her best friend practically leap from the couch, sprinting over to throw an arm around her stiff shoulders. "Anyone I know?"_

_While her mother was still enamored with her flowers, Spencer takes that moment to turn her head, glaring into her girlfriend's obviously fake, innocent smile. Robin smirks, giving her a quick wink, before returning her eyes to her mother who was eyeing the bouquets like they were steaks. Spencer clears her throat loudly, snapping her mother out of it, and quickly pries them from her mother's hands. Once she reads what the anonymous sender had written on the card, Spencer's annoyance falters, and she feels herself smiling. Okay, that _was_ sweet._

_"Uh, Mom, Robby and I are gonna go take this upstairs," She says, fixing her best friend a knowing look as she gripped the flowers against her chest. Robin's smirk only grows, obediently following the flustered blonde up the stairs. Robin grins to herself, very much appreciating the view. Spencer rolls her eyes, pulling her wrist, and switching their positions. "Come on, Lover boy," Spencer growls, pushing on her shoulder as they trudged up the stairs._

_Once inside her room, Spencer locks her door, turning abruptly to stare at the calm teenager sitting on her bed. Robin smirks to herself, lowering back onto her elbows, and completely ignoring the other girl's eyes flickering down at her torso distractedly. Because the way her tank top was clinging to her arched body at that moment was _so_ making Spencer lose focus._

_"So, the lilies looked nice, don't you think?"_

_Robin grins and raised her eyebrows, waiting. Spencer shakes her head at her girlfriend's dopey smile, folding her arms over her chest.__  
><em>_"I can't believe you did that," She half-whispers._

_"You can," Robin protests, slyly. But when Spencer didn't budge, she slams her back against the bed in irritation. "I thought it'd be a great Valentine's Day gift. You know you loved them, Spence."_

_"Of course I did," She sighs, stepping closer until her thighs pressed against Robin's bended knees. "You just kind of caught me off guard. After all, you agreed that we'd take it slow."_

_"Yeah, well, I lied. Because this sucks, Spencer. Major._ _I love you. I don't like hiding that." Robin sits up, and takes Spencer's hands, pulling her down on the bed. Hazel eyes stare into blue, glinting with overwhelming intensity. "We've been 'officially' dating for three __months now, not to mention totally making out weeks beforehand. I think I'm at least allowed to buy you flowers on Valentine's Day. I would've settled for taking you on a date proper followed by kissing you loads of times on the porch, but no, not acceptable in the almighty Carlin household."_

_Spencer stares into her girlfriend's eyes, those beautiful eyes, and instantly feels guilty. Not to mention, Robin had just told her she loved her for the first time while they were arguing about keeping their relationship a secret. Something _Spencer_ wanted. Oh, she definitely had to fix this. Wordlessly, she leans down in their embrace, capturing the girl's lips in hers for a long, deep, definitely dangerous kiss. Because it leads to dozens more, leaving them horizontal on the bed and Spencer's glad she'd locked the door earlier. Robin is the first to draw back, ducking her head into Spencer's neck with a bashful smile. Because it was an unspoken apology, one she gladly forgave Spencer for the moment their lips touched._

_She kisses Robin's shoulder. "I did love the flowers."_

_A small, triumphant grin is her response, one that Spencer finds herself fondly studying for several more seconds. She's so in love, it's ridiculous. Swallowing heavily, the blonde decides to take a leap, feeling it best to actually voice her feelings with words this time._

_"...and I love _you _too."_

_Robin lifts her head to stare into Spencer's eyes, lost in thought. "Don't say it if don't mean it, Spence."_

_"I do mean it," Spencer whispers, capturing her lips once more. Saying it out loud, for the first time, made her feel so relieved. And, possibly, floating. She smiles dreamily. If this is what it would feel like the rest of her life, bring on the cheese."I think I've loved you for forever."_

_"Close your eyes for me," Robin whispers back, after a long moment of just watching her. Absorbing her words. Almost instantly, Spencer closes her eyes. She feels Robin shift a little against her before she feels cold metal circling her neck. A necklace. "Now the flowers were a surprise, but this, this is _really_ your gift."_

_Blue eyes open to find a small, handmade dream catcher sparkling against her collar bone. It's so beautiful, Spencer thinks, fingers tracing the fragile object. She'd been having nightmares lately, even losing a severe amount of sleep over them._

_Her lips quirk into a small smile. "You're making me feel really bad about not getting you anything."_

_"I've got an idea. Kiss me," The brunette dares through her grin. Like clockwork, Spencer's tugging at her collar, tangling herself in Robin's hair, her lips, in a hot, wet, _strongly _passionate kiss that leaves them both breathlessly aroused to the point that they _had _to separate. "God, keep doing that, and you don't have to give me anything else."_

_Spencer laughs, pulling them both up off the bed before Robin deflowered her right then and there. They just reach the door before Robin turns around, gently pressing the blonde's back against the wood as she closed the distance between them._

_"Hey, do you think Paula would let you sleep over?" She asks, kissing her fingertips."I'd like treat my girlfriend to dinner and a movie, if that's okay?"_

_"That's perfect," Spencer breathes out, smiling wide. She lifts herself onto her tiptoes, cradling the girl's face, and guiding her lips to hers. Robin smiles into the kiss, holding her chin, and deepened the kiss. Neither of them breaks it until Spencer's mom is yelling for them downstairs, and the two teenagers reluctantly go back to the world outside of Spencer's bedroom._

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><p>Blue eyes snap open, squinting against the foreign light stabbing into them from above.<p>

_It's close to home by blood or block_  
><em>I hate the bed, and I hate the dock<em>  
><em>This loss of life is killing me, <em>  
><em>effecting unexpectedly<em>

Spencer breaths through her nose, adjusting to her foreign surroundings. A deep breath. Preparing herself. It wouldn't be long now. It always happened, one day after the other, since Robin died. Life and reality flooding back without mercy, ripping and burning through her lingering memories, and _very much_ alive. Evidently, she was too alive. It felt so strange to Spencer, to be living and dead at the same time.

Sitting up on the twin sized bed they'd given her, Spencer stretches into the warmth bathing her sore muscles. After her father had left yesterday afternoon, she just stayed in her room, not even changing into her pajamas. Her bed was placed beside the only window in her room, in direct position of the sun rise and sunset. Certain to remind her that much more that she'd survive another day, while her best friend would not. She lets her worn, blue eyes sweep the baron room in an attempt to distract herself from her emotions. Her room was dorm room-sized at best, found on the second floor, the same on which she'd witnessed both the aggressive male, Clay, and the two sisters she had yet to meet. The walls had been painted a sky blue. It was a deep, rich blue that seemed acceptable enough.

_Could be worse_, she thinks with a shrug. _It could be pink, and Hello Kitty everywhere. Robin would _love_ that._

The vintage alarm clock on the bed stand beside the bed reads _5:34 A.M_. Knowing she won't be able to fall back asleep again until later that night, Spencer swings her legs over the bed's edge, feet smacking the cold wooden floor as she stands. Her eyes find the suitcase her mother packed for her sitting untouched beside the door at the far end of the room. Slipping quietly across the small space to grasp the suitcase handle, Spencer hobbled her way over towards what she assumed to be the closet. It had one of those rusty latch locks, and you know it held some history to it. Pulling up the latch, Spencer swings the door open cautiously, not wanting some diseased rodent or man eating tarantula flying at her. Instead, she's met by a rather creepy darkness within the mediocre doorframe that sends a chill down her spine. If she hadn't been so emotionally constipated, she would've let the instant paranoia overwhelm her until she shut the door in a girly panic. Spencer takes a deep breath, and reached into the ominous darkness of the closet until she found the _rudely_ short string that turned on the light bulb hanging above. With a triumphant huff, she unzips the suitcase and begins putting away her belongings.

_But that's the problem seeing it coming does nothing till' it comes_  
><em>We're deaf until the heavens are beating the drums<em>

Half an hour later, and halfway into her packing, Spencer hears it. Whimpering, from the room next to her. Frozen in mid-hang of an old tee, she turns her head ever so slightly. She listened hard to understand the dribbles of tones imitating from behind the wall, claiming them to be a hushed, feminine rambling, similar to a child during a nightmare. Soon, the faint cries stop, replaced by a softer buzzing of some kind. Her eyes find the naked blue wall beside her bed in an attempt to look past the dry wall and paint, imagining the possible scenario on the other side. When the buzzing gradually slowed, resembling a soft, soothing humming, like when a mother hums her child to sleep.

Sliding the nearly empty luggage into the closet, Spencer tugs at the light bulb string and gently swings the door closed. For good measure, she lifted the latch, and closed it good. Her footsteps are stealth as she made her way towards the wall, not wanting to draw attention to herself, especially at this time in the morning.

Pressing an ear against the smooth surface, Spencer could definitely hear the singing voice more clearly now. Even from the granulated exposure from her position behind the wall, Spencer found herself completely awestruck by the girls' humming. Spencer leaned forward, unashamed, and absently ran her hand along the wall. Blue eyes flutter closed involuntarily, taking it all in. It was just for a moment, but in that moment, she could feel her body turning outward on itself, toward the voice. This takes her by surprise, and she's stunned for the next few minutes, utterly encompassed in the wordless song reaching her ears until it dies out.

Frowning, she drops her back against the mattress. Wonders what her reaction would be if she actually _heard_ her singing. With one arm behind her head, the other hand touching the dream catcher dangling from her neck, she feels the all-too-familiar numbness flooding back. Feels the guilt. She spends the remainder of the morning there, still, staring up at the white tiled ceiling above her.

_But it's too late, and I don't know when it turned into fate_  
><em>Unavoidable, so I better get prepared<em>  
><em>It's too late, but I'll take ignorance over being so scared<em>

_..._

When she hears the soft rapping on her door, Spencer inwardly groans, not-quite-ready to socialize this early into her exile. Eyes flit to her right, seeing that the alarm clock now read _10:27 A.M._ The door obviously didn't have a lock from the inside, and she thought it'd be redundant to open it herself, so, she stayed rooted to her spot. Five seconds later, the door's being pushed open, and Julia's blonde head pokes out from behind it.

"I see you're awake, awesome," She exclaims, dimples prominent in her mega-watt grin. Julia comes forward into the room, closing the door behind her. Spencer eyes her silently, seeing that she was casually dressed, except for the pinstripe vest she wore. Oddly enough, she seemed to pull it off, given her height. "The bathroom is down the hall and everyone's already showered and downstairs, so, feel free to get cleaned up before Group. It starts in about an hour."

Brows furrowing, Spencer reluctantly sits erect on the bed.  
>"For what?"<p>

Upon hearing herself, Spencer clears her throat. Her voice was raspy, and much harsher than she intended. Then again, it'd been the first time she'd spoken in days.

"The group session," Julia replies, hugging a clipboard to her chest. "Every Monday and Friday morning. Don't worry, since you're a few weeks late, you can sit out the first few sessions. You know, get to know everyone. Sound good?"

Spencer looks at the floor, giving her answer with a small nod. She's not so surprised when she feels the end of the bed dip, and Julia's sitting down curtly, not wanting to breech any boundaries. It was, after all, a nut house.

"I know this might be a little scary for you, I do," She's saying, a little softer than before. Understanding. Her therapist voice. "But I promise there's not going to be any psychotic brothers hatching us all up one by one, or anything. You're safe here." Spencer smiles a little at the cult movie reference, thinking that maybe she wasn't as annoying as her sunny disposition set her out to be. Or her laugh, which she was oddly getting used to. It made her smile. "Or, as safe as you can be with a short blonde chick wielding nothing but some mace and a ukulele..." Julia stops to tap her chin, thinking to herself. "Though, I might still have those handcuffs Tom gave me for Christmas."

The teen raises an amused eyebrow, and pinches her lips together to keep from laughing at the ridiculousness of the young woman's thought process.

"My father used to play ukulele," Spencer whispers, after much debate. Her words were fumbling over each other clumsily, not used to talking so much. "When I was little, he performed _Somewhere Over The Rainbow_ to me for my birthday. I thought Mom's head was going to explode from embarrassment."

Once again, Julia's hardy laugh fills the quiet space. Minutes pass, and the two exchange in harmless small talk, though Spencer knew it was only Julia's way of feeling her out, seeing how she thought about the world around her. After all, her occupation was built around judging the actions and thoughts of others. Still, both of them seemed to be less uncomfortable now that the air was less tension-filled.

"You love your family very much," She observes, settling her clipboard on her lap as she leaned forward. Her blue eyes glittered with mirth, teasing. "Which is a feet in and of itself because I've met your mother. _Ungodly_, that woman."

Spencer shakes away another smile, taken for a moment with the horribly true accusation. The mention of her mother brings up the beginning of Spencer's loathing towards her, the night of Robin's death. After reliving the night hundreds of times since, the utter feeling of sadness that replaces the blood in her cheeks. Spencer takes a shaky breath, tying her rustled chocolate waves into a pony tail, taking her mind off the moisture pooling in her eyes.

"Fuck," She snaps, angry at herself, pulling her knees to her chest, arms folding over them. "I'm sorry, I can't—"

"Hey, chin up, it's only day two," Julia soothes, laying a hand on her shoulder. "I'm not going to pressure you. What you've gone through, it's known for breaking people down—everything they are until they're just a numb shell of who they once were. Killing you from the inside out, if you let it. Recovery, however, _is_ possible, Spencer. It's not something you can rush, and I'm not going to. My only goal for _you_ is helping you see that life, no matter how painful, it is _still_ worth living."

"What if you can't?"

Spencer blows out a deep breath of air, the question catching them both off guard. She hated feeling so vulnerable and weak.

"Then I give you full permission to shave my head in my sleep," The blonde answers with a straight face, and Spencer breathes out a small giggle. Julia pats her knee and stands, smiling down at her. "Come on, Danny cooked a sweet breakfast downstairs, and I plan on attacking the bacon. You game?"

Spencer smiles timidly, quickly wiping her tears away. "Uhm, I'm just going to take a shower. If that's okay?"

"Absolutely. Remember, Group in an hour," Julia reminds her, opening the door. "I'll send someone to bring you down, okay?"

Hugging herself, Spencer gives her a halfhearted smile. "Thanks."

"Thank _you_," She retorts, earnestly. Patting the wooden frame, she parts her with her trademark grin. "I'll see you soon."

Spencer bites her lip. Falls back onto her pillow. Stares at the ceiling.

"Here we go, kid," She whispers, fingering the dream catcher lying over the pounding heart in her chest. "I hope you're enjoying the show, Robby. Better sit back because I think it's about to get a lot more exciting."

_But what's one more, yeah, let me go_  
><em>Let me suffer nice and slow<em>  
><em>The pack is watching patiently<em>  
><em>Stand in line to wait and see<em>

* * *

><p><strong>R&amp;<strong>**R.**


	3. Chapter 3 : A Welcome Vacation Part II

**Disclaimer: As always, South isn't mine...You know, I wonder if I'm like the only one who puts this on _every damn chapter _they write. ;P**  
><strong><br>Author's Note: ****Continuation of Chapter Two (Seriously, it's only like 20 minutes into the future) I decided not to name it anything else, as well as put in any lyrics. Yeah, I change my mind a lot, so, get used to it. :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three : A Welcome Vacation (Part II)<strong>

They take your razors away from you when you're suicidal. Just for the first week, then you'll be given one disposable razor per shower every morning and night. For a girl, this kind of sucks, given our obvious need for them. Oh and how about the fifteen minutes you're given to actually _take_ the shower? _Ugh._ Though, in Spencer's case, she could at least take refuge in the fact that she took cold showers. Since Robin died, cold water seemed to be the only thing that calmed her down and made her actually feel, even if only for a little while.

Spencer sat with crossed legs against her closet door, anxiously running a brush through her damp hair. She'd gotten out of the shower just minutes ago, thrown on a pair of jeans, and an old gray blouse that covered up the bandages on her wrists. Whoever Julia sent to bring her to the Group session would be there any minute now, and she felt the strange need to _not_ to freak them out any more than whatever rumors had already made her out to be.

Knock. Knock.

Spencer flinches, and the brush falls from her fingers, clattering against the wooden floor. Taking a deep breath, she stood on weak knees, squeezing her hands together to force them to stop trembling. The knob turns easily and the door slides open, coming to rest against her hip. It's safe to say that what Spencer saw then was the oddest first impression she's ever had to endure.

Because there, standing against the doorframe, looked like a runaway Abercrombie & Fitch model. Clad only in a pair of black sweat pants, the young man was bare from the waist up—and what a _very_ trim, toned waist it was. It seemed as though every muscle in his slim body was bulging in prominent fashion, and Spencer wonders why in the hell he was at Haven House.

She dragged her eyes up to meet his. They were a pale, grayish green. Spencer found recognition in those squinted hypnotizing eyes and strong bone structured face, remembering that he was the one wrestling Clay last night. What was his name?

Finally realizing that she'd stared too long, Spencer clears her throat, shifting uncomfortably.  
>"Uhm. You don't have a shirt."<p>

He smiles, showcasing unusually straight teeth. "You'll get used to that."

Spencer raises a mocking eyebrow. "Will I now?"

At that second, a change had come over him, and he spoke gravely, as if she'd just passed on that his dog had died. "Why, do I look bloated?" He asks, stepping forward, veined hands pressing subconsciously against his chiseled stomach. "Shit. I knew I should've done those extra 80 stacks."

"What are sta—Nevermind, trust me, you're definitely not bloated. In fact, I honestly haven't seen a guy with a 12-pack until now." Spencer dismisses, shakily, while taking back the distance between them. Though the pleading expression on his face made him resemble more of an insecure teenage girl, so, she takes comfort in that. He really didn't seem like he'd proposed a threat, then again, neither did that guy in Psycho before he went ape shit on that girl in the shower.

"Really? Sweet," He grins brightly, suddenly towering over her with an outstretched hand. "I'm Aiden, by the way. I'm in the room above yours."

"Spencer," She replies, shaking it. It's so weird, he has _really_ soft hands. Maybe he's gay. Maybe Haven House was really an undercover brainwashing operation setting out to de-gay young, unsuspecting youth, and her mother was the president in charge of taking over the world and turning it into a Catholic powerhouse of epic proportions...Spencer laughs at her own paranoia. God, she'd _really_ gone off the deep end.

Aiden gives her a look, still smiling. "What's so funny?"

"It's nothing, I was just thinking about—" Thinking it best not to elaborate, Spencer shakes her head, sighs. "I'm just insane."

"Babe, aren't we all?" He teases, his lips curving upward into a mischievous smile. A smile _too_ inviting, Spencer observes before it hits her. Everything about his posture screamed flirting, his arched back, roaming eyes, lack of personal space, the excessive smiling. Well, there goes that gay theory. And who would have the nerve to hit on a girl in a freaking nut house? Oh right, other crazy people. "You're definitely not what I expected you to be, you know? There have been a few rumors here and there, since we heard you were coming. Madison figured you were probably some kind of transgender nutcase or bulimic Prom Queen."

"Uh, sorry to disappoint," Spencer said distantly. She looks away from him, from his eyes, and takes another step back. Creating distance and very obvious tension. When he realizes this, Aiden nods briskly, just once, lowering her chin and bringing it back up. Getting the hint, loud and clear. But there's still a sparkle of civility in his eyes that gave her hope that they'd still be friendly acquaintances. She sure could use someone to talk to, especially if she's going to be _here_. Spencer smiles to herself. Crisis averted.

Aiden claps his hands together. "So, you ready to go? Group is about to start."

"Yeah, I just have to..." Spencer trailed off, holding up a finger at him. She leaves the door, sprinting to her bedside table, and quickly threw the dream catcher around her neck. Aiden decides to step into the room, eyeing the bareness of it with raised eyebrows.

"Forgot my...necklace," She mutters, watching him. Teases. "Like what you see, pretty boy?"

The raven haired boy laughs, flashing an apologetic grin. "Personal space, got it. Come on, everyone's waiting."

Spencer bites her lip. "Should I be worried?"

"Always," Aiden says, with a wink. "You actually came on a good day though. It's activity day. One group session out of the week, just to unwind a little. Julia brings these cheesy little interactive games that we all play. It's actually really fun, you'd like it."

With that, he leads her through the doorway of her bedroom. Their footsteps echoed in the brightly lit hall and down the arched staircase until they came to rest at the foot of the stairs. Spencer lets Aiden go ahead of her, feeling even more nervous, as they rounded another corner. Forcing her legs to move forward, the distant sound of people chattering caught her ears as they came upon the dining room. Then she saw them, the remaining patients of Haven House. They were bunched up in a makeshift circle sitting on various furniture scattered near the fireplace. Aiden clears his throat, sparking their interests, and before Spencer could hide behind him, four pairs of eyes were trained on her with peaked curiosity.

And for a second, she stops breathing. Because god _damn_. Eyes, all of them, on _her_. And Spencer's heart lurches anxiously because it feels like waking up in the hospital all over again. Thankfully, Aiden's lean arm is thrown around her shoulders, providing a grateful distraction against her pounding chest. Though his sweaty man nipple being just inches from her face was only making the gesture kind of awkward and uncomfortable.

"Guys, this is Spencer," Aiden announces, smiling from ear to ear, and ruffled the girl's hair. To which she quickly responds with a playful swat to his pecks, shrugging his arm away. "Spencer, this is everybody."

From his place on the floor to the right of the fireplace, Clay's shaved head rose from underneath his crossed arms over his knees. They locked eyes, and Spencer finds herself offering a friendly smile, and he returns a much smaller, meeker own of his own. Then, he's hiding his head in his arms once more, and Spencer thought how dreadfully and suddenly, small he looked. Like a child in timeout, really. After witnessing last night's events, however, maybe it was more his idea.

"That's Clay, as you know," Aiden informs her, casually. "His partner in crime, Sean, has a CAT scan this morning. So, I guess we'll save that can of worms for later."

His hand tugs on her shoulder, maneuvering her to the far most corner of the room. Sitting there, flicking a nail filer across her fingernails was a petite, dark haired girl with what resembled a permanent scowl etched on her glossy lips. In an instant, Spencer flashbacked to all the popular girls and cheerleaders that plagued her and Robin's first years of high school. Although she was taught not to judge a person by their looks, she just _knew_ that this girl was trouble. If not by her gut, it was the pair of sharp, empty green eyes narrowing up at her in merciless scrutiny.

"I'm Madison," She greets, before Aiden could voice the words. Flipping her curled locks behind her, she leans in her seat, with an acidic smirk curving her lips. "Whatcha in here for, Barbie?"

Breathing out of her mouth, Spencer mulls over the question, torn whether she should reveal the answer. Thankfully, Aiden's hand is on her wrist, pulling her behind him slightly.

"Maybe we should leave the questions for Julia, Madison," He suggests, but the firmness in his voice said otherwise. "Come on, Spencer, there are two others I'd like you to meet."

He leads her away from the grinning amazon, across the room, and coming to rest in front of a long blue couch along the far wall. As they inched closer, Spencer recognized the two figures lounging there to be the two girl's she'd seen last night as well. The older teen, who's glasses were pulled up in her hair, was laying against one of the couch arm rests with the younger girl curled up in her side, her fingers locked around her sister's tanned, tone bicep. Tightly, as if she were afraid she would be ripped from the couch without a second's notice. Together, bathed in the afternoon sunlight, the two gazed out of the colossal window, patiently observing the outside world moving around them. Tragically beautiful, Spencer thinks, unable to look away. Ethereal even. It all seemed unfair. What happened to them, _all of them_, that they had to end up here?

"Kyla, Ash," Aiden prompts, no longer agitated, but grinning down at the two beauties. "This is Spencer, fresh meat."

"Yeah, I saw you last night. I'm Kyla, this is my sister, Ashley," Kyla says, uncurling from her sister to shake her hand. Though, Spencer notices, the silent teen had yet to look away from the window. Kyla's hand was feverish and steady in hers, barely gripping, like she hadn't the strength to grasp harder. Spencer stops herself from the overwhelming motherly urge to pump her full of vitamins and nutrients. She just looked so frail, dammit. "Julia told us about you, said you'd be here all summer?"

Spencer nods timidly, absently brushed wisps from the sides of her face out of habit.  
>"That's what they tell me."<p>

Ashley's mocha eyes, which looked intelligent and not the least bit deranged, finally left the window at the sound of Spencer's voice, and settled onto her with rapt attention. Watching, taking her in, curiously. As if she'd suddenly embodied the blinding sunshine Ashley had been enamored with just moments ago. Spencer takes a long side-glance, melting into her gaze, arms folding over her chest. But when they're flickering down, at the flash of white gauze encasing her exposed wrists, Spencer's challenging demeanor crumbles, and she quickly pulls her sleeves down. Cursing inwardly, she spends the next few seconds in silent turmoil, unable to meet the eyes that were desperately searching for hers. In her mind's eye, as she halfheartedly watched Kyla's coming words, Spencer could almost feel the holes being burned into her by those _damn_ eyes. And she's breathing in, giving into the guilty pounding in her ears. Because the dream catcher around her neck felt twenty pounds heavier.

"So are we." Kyla's head swung on her neck, looking back at Ashley with a long, tired smile. "It'll be nice to have a break from all the testosterone, not to mention Madison."

"Saltar de un acantilado y morir," said girl huffs from across the room. Although she didn't understand a word of it, Spencer just knew it was bad.

Kyla rolls her eyes, grasping the armrest, and pulls herself up. Almost as quickly as she rose, her delicate body falters its balance and Kyla's dropping back down onto the couch cushions. Ashley's there in an instant, draping an arm around her waist. Her entire body seems to straighten up in alert, her face screwed up in a heart wrenching pout. Aiden's hand in on her arm, pulling her back, motioning for them to sit on the love seat opposite of the two sisters.

"Kyla," Ashley whispers gently, strained, breaking her silence. "Maybe I should take you upstairs. Sit out for the day."

"No, Ash, I'm okay. I just a got little lightheaded," Her sister insists, patting away her protective grasp on her. She then turns her attention to Aiden and Spencer, giving them a shaky smile, waving it off. Spencer notes that her pupils were dilated, small, eyes glassy with insomnia. Jesus. "It's fine, really. I have night terrors, so, it's kind of impossible to get a healthy amount of sleep nowadays."

"You _will_ get more sleep," Ashley's muttering gently, promising, leaning into her sister. "If I have to sing you to sleep every damn night, I will."

Upon hearing this, Spencer perks up in attention, slightly open-mouthed. _She _was the one singing? That means they're in the room next to hers, the both of them. And she found herself feeling lighter somehow, knowing this new information, and knowing that her neighbors were friendly, and not wanting to strangle her in her sleep. It gave her comfort, enough to push the thoughts of everything else out of her head, if not for a little while.

"Good luck with that, Ash," Kyla whispers back, laying a hand on her knee. "Remember, Julia's going to separate us soon."

Ashley's eyes flash defiantly. "And? Doc goes to sleep around lights out. Sneaking out would be cake."

"You're staying put," Her sister demands, before softening. "Besides, it'll be good for me, not having my sister holding my hand all the time. These night terrors won't go away by themselves, that's why I'm here. Why _we're_ here. To get over everything that's happened, and move on with our lives."

"Yeah, I know," Ashley says, pulling the girl into her. A faraway glint reaching her eyes. "I know..."

Smiling, Kyla rests her chin on her sister's shoulder, leaning against her sleepily. From her place on the loveseat, Spencer watches intently, finding the scene in front of her almost too private and intimate and loving, like she was intruding somehow. A second later, she's turning her head, willing her eyes to find the window behind her.

She took a deep breath, and stared up at the thick, rolling clouds that seemed to press down, almost within reach. It'd been a long time since she'd just stopped and took time to watch the astonishingly beautiful nature around her. But right then, watching the trees dancing about the gusts of winds wrapping around them, and the sun flickering behind their leaves, it reminded her of why someone like Ashley and Kyla would do just that. When you're in a pretty dark place like they all were, feeling no longer in control of your life, you have no choice but to find the beauty in life. To keep you sane, to keep you breathing.

"Spencer?"

Turning away from the window, she locks eyes with Kyla who was leaning forward on the couch.  
>"Hmm?"<p>

"Do you mind me asking what happened?" She glances down then, below her neck, noting her confusion. Spencer's arms unfold, fingerings trailing over her bandages knowingly. "It's totally okay if you don't want to talk about it."

After a moment's debate, Spencer lowers herself down onto the loveseat's armrest beside Aiden. The brawny teen was looking up at her with calm, open eyes, as well as Kyla, telling her that she could trust in them not to judge her, or anything she'd tell them. Ashley, however, held more of a risk, sitting with drawn knees, and the same guarded, faraway expression as earlier. Spencer wonders if she'd done something to offend her earlier, but a big part of her knew that wasn't the case. Especially when Ashley's eyes are sweeping up to meet hers without warning, bridging the gap of questioning between them. Because her timeless face is twisting into an expression that could only be described as pleading, giving her a small, lingering smile that would last for days. And just like that, it was like Spencer was the sun again, nothing else mattered. And Ashley was listening, with more than just her ears. Because, maybe, she wanted Spencer to trust her too.

"No, uh—it's okay," Spencer says, fiddling with her trembling fingers. "My girl friend was killed rather suddenly, and I-I guess I just couldn't deal. But it got worse, and I thought I was going _insane_. Numb. So much so that one night after my parents went to sleep, I got a kitchen knife and..." Spencer pinches her mouth shut, the words dying in her throat. She shrugs, gives them a tight smile. "And here we are."

"I'm so sorry," Kyla whispers, genuinely upset by the story. Reaches out, covers her hand. "Oh, Spencer, I know how hard it is to lose someone you love. We lost our parents in a fire when we were kids, and it was _horrible_ growing up without them. I miss them every day, god knows I do. But you just have to believe that they're in a good place, watching over us."

Spencer could only nod, having heard many other variations of Kyla's advice from both her parents and guidance counselor. By now, you'd think she would've gotten closer to such clarity and acceptance. Maybe she was just damaged goods, forever internally incomplete. Then again, maybe not. Maybe there was this unforeseen spark out there in the world that'd give her a reason to breathe every day. That'd make it all worth it. She likes to think this possibility was why she was brought back. The only question now was, how long would she be willing to wait to find it?

Spencer's knocked out of her stupor by Julia's short form skipping into the dining room, with Danny at her side holding a box of objects. Her eyes fall on Spencer sitting with Aiden and the girls, and Julia smiles approvingly.

"Well, I see you've met everyone," She beams, sitting cross-legged in front of the dormant fireplace. Waves everyone over. "Hope everyone's had a pleasant morning! Today's group session is a lot lighter than Mondays, you're welcome. I have a meeting Sunday so the activity's being bumped up. Now, it's all about self expression, and how you see yourselves. What better way to express that than painting? You, that is. Self portraits. Now, Danny and I have some supplies for you, so—Aiden! Tell me you _did not_ just lick the paint!"

* * *

><p><strong>R&amp;R.<strong>


	4. Chapter 4 : Regrets

**Disclaimer: As always, South isn't mine.**

**Author's Note: This chapter time jumps past Spencer's first weekend at Haven House to the following Tuesday of Week 2. The weekend was majorly uneventful, mainly spent sleeping, exiling herself in her room to unpack in the slowest way possible. That is, until Julia caught on and politely forced her to mingle with everyone in a very twisted version of Cards Against Humanity (she didn't think it was possible) she'd rather not talk about ever.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four: Regrets<strong>

Spencer walks into her room, and presses her back against her door.

_I'm unimpressed; think it's best__  
><em>if we give it a rest<em>  
><em>I'm so tired. I can't stand for fear I will land on my ass<em>_

She'd just gotten through with an hour session with Julia in her office. Between the group sessions two days a week, and the one-on-one sessions with her which were hugely different from what she'd experienced from her observed group sessions. It may have only been week 2 of her two month stay, but it felt like a month had already passed in this place. It was rough already, being there. Being the therapist she was, Julia didn't shy away from getting to the root of her depression, numbness—everything. Spencer even told her about her mother's religious craziness, and the fears that followed, something she'd only ever conveyed to Robin. And now she was feeling that feeling after you tell someone a big secret, half-relieved, half-regretting you'd even opened your mouth. Honestly, the whole ordeal left her emotionally drained, and a little annoyed.

_Let time pass, this can't last, __  
><em>cause I'm just barely getting by<em>_

Luckily, the growling in her stomach distracted her for the time being. Mouth watering, she eyes the lighted numbers on the clock. 6:23 P.M. Lunch would be served very soon. She turns and opens the door, leaving the room. And that's when she heard it. Music—someone was playing a guitar.

Spencer's steps slow right in front of Ashley and Kyla's door, realizing that whoever was playing was inside the room. Though she only just learned that Ashley was vocally inclined, something told her that she was also the one playing, not her younger sister. She smiles as the notes swirled closer, hitting her with much more intensity as she neared the door, all very calm, and very soothing. Immediately drawn in, she takes closer until she's at arm's length from the wood, but just as her foot lowers down, she's surprised to find it landing on something bouncy. A second later, her leg's jerking forward away from the object, and smacking against the door with a loud thud. Slapping a hand over her mouth, Spencer takes a reactive jump backward, staggering, cursing inwardly. _Holy mother of god that hurt! Shit, ow, fuck, ow, dammit._

That's when she hears footsteps shuffling from inside the room, toward the door, and Spencer's eyes widen._ Shit!_ She quickly sprints off and down the hallway, ducking behind the bathroom door before she could be seen. She listens to the door open and close, then Ashley's brown head of hair walking past and down the stairs. Spencer breathes a sigh of relief, leaning around to see that the thing she'd nearly tripped over was a small, blue nerf ball. Begrudgingly, Spencer shakes it off, and heads downstairs too.

_Give me a break with this heart ache__  
><em>I doubt it will make it through till tomorrow<em>  
><em>It's bogged down with sorrow and guilt and it's built,<em>  
><em>On these stilts which wobble 5 feet and 3 inches high<em>_

Her feet hit the padded carpet of the main hall, eyes landing on the stain glass windows above the doors arched frame. Outside, a soft, velvet light was spreading out across the eastern hillsides sending a beautiful array of refracted colored light across the entrance. Spencer smiled to herself, remembering a time her and Robin had fallen asleep to the miniature stain glass ornament that hung down over the window seat in her room. In her mind's eye, she could see the lazy smile spreading across her soft, gorgeous features, the ghost warmth of an arm once draped over her waist.

"What are you looking at?"

Spencer jumps a little, but still smiles at the raven haired teen behind her. Who, surprisingly, donned jeans and a gray t-shirt. "Wow, you clean up well when you're not shirtless and wearing sweatpants."

"You know you love it," Aiden teases, again, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Come on, Carlin, I'm starving."

They came upon the mess hall, and Spencer seen that everyone was already there eating whatever Danny had cooked for them. Even two other males she had yet to meet, one sitting with Julia and Danny at the opposite end of the room, the other sitting with Clay. It wasn't what you'd expect a mess hall to look like, when really, it was only like five family dining rooms all crammed together, with six wooden tables, and the kitchen built in. They found their trays, and got some food from the numerous plates on the buffet table at the front. Although, Spencer noticed the food on Aiden's plate looked to be something not a usual teenage boy would eat, especially of his size. He'd chosen a tuna sandwich, salad, and an apple, oddly enough. Other than a blatant raised eyebrow, she let it go, and followed him to a table.

"Sean, my man!" Aiden yells, leaning over to pound fists with the guy sitting with Clay. "How'd the scan go?"

"Great actually, the doctor has high hopes," Sean answered. "I'm signed up for another appointment next week. They might put me on a new medication, and if that doesn't work, my parents are going to see about possible cognitive analytic therapy that could hopefully reduce my episodes. I'd be out a lot more though, along with the Doc, so you'd be left with the wonder twins."

"Shit, that sucks. Good luck though," Aiden groans, hand landing on Clay's tense shoulder. "Whatcha' reading Clay, a comic book?"

"A graphic novel," Clay said firmly, shrugging his touch away. "It helps me focus. Especially in cases when I'm tempted to break someone's neck."

"Roger that, bro," Aiden gives, leveling a civil grin. "Come on, there's an open table over there."

Spencer gives them both a shy wave, and shook Sean's hand, introducing herself, then quickly following. He walks ahead of her, over towards the empty table in question. Spencer falls in step behind him, eyes drifting up distractedly to a small, black design on the back of his neck. Curious, she squints, realizing it was a tattoo. Upon further inspection, she sees it, and her feet stop, rooting her in place. It was a_ scorpion_ tattoo.

_"I'm dying, kid," Robin's muttering, eyes flickering frantically into the forebodingly white ceiling above her._  
><em>"Everything's all blurry. This is it, the light's almost here."<em>

_From her place beside the hospital bed, Spencer makes a clumsy attempt to roll her eyes. However, being that her hands were still shaking from the panic she'd endured during and after she'd driven Robin to the hospital. They'd gone to the lake to cool off, just laying there on the grass, and before they knew it, they started wrestling around. Robin had dove at her, but Spencer moved out of the way, sending her best friend into the bush behind her. After that, she remembered seeing Robin stumbling to her feet, the weird flash of brown on her shoulder. She remembered stopping, focusing, until she realized what it was. Evidently, neither of them weren't quick enough, because the next thing she heard was Robin's high pitched scream, her arms swatting away the small creature. She looks down at the scampering scorpion, then herself, sees a spot of blood through her shirt, and wide, hazel eyes are snapping up. Spencer didn't get half a step before Robin's eyes rolled back, her lanky body slumping down against the sand._

_"That's the drugs, dumbass," Spencer replies, scooting the chair closer. "You're not dying."_

_"I hate scorpions, I fucking hate em'," her best friend rambles on anyway, clutching the bandage on her collar bone. Felt the wound pulsating sickly, and paled, blood pounding in her ears. Moans lowly against the pain. "Who the hell gets stung by a scorpion in Ohio! Son of a bitch, Carlin, make it stop. Oh, god, I can read the gravestone now. 'Finally answered: 'What's the worst that could happen?'"_

_"Robin Paloma MacKenna, shut up," Spencer demanded, grabbing onto the girl's shaking hands. Squeezing them. "If the pain's worse, the anti venom is working, okay? Just gotta wait it out, Robby, and calm down for me. The sedatives should be kicking in any minute now."_

_Spencer waits then, impatiently, as the next few minutes dragged on, and Robin's murmurs slowly dissipated as expected. Taking the girl's face in her hands, Spencer looks into Robin's dilated eyes as she blinked up at her through her slowly dissolving hysteria. Then she's smiling, a dopey, adorable smile that warms her from head to toe in relief. Spencer giggled, feeling her worry slowly slipping away as she stared down at her best friend fondly. Minutes later, Robin's teetering on the edge of asleep, fingers still loosely entangled in hers over the bed's railing. However, much to Spencer's surprise, she's still lucid enough to demand that she climb up on the bed with her. After much debate, the blonde's sighing in defeat, and carefully slipping onto the bed. Shifting onto her side, Spencer propped herself up by her elbow, she notices that Robin was beginning to sober up. Eyes blinking lazily, Robin turns her head against the sheets, staring back at her, innocent, knowing, smirking, eyes longing, wide-spaced. Nudges closer._

_"Be with me," she whispers. "Be my girlfriend, Spence."_

_It takes her a minute to fully process Robin's spontaneous confession, before Spencer's finally breathes. Over the past few weeks since they'd made their feelings known to each other, the two had tiptoed around the inevitable, blocked by obvious obstacles on Spencer's part. She had told Robin, many times, that even if they'd get together, she could never tell her family, at least not until she was out of school. Over a year from then. They would have to hide, never being able to kiss in public or at school, something she knew Robin would be against. A year would be an awfully long time, and she wasn't naive to the fact that her mother would set Spencer up on many dates, without any protests from her daughter. Instead of arguing any further, her best friend had only shaken her head, and walked her home._

_Spencer sighs. "Robin...we're in a hospital."_

_Robin's fingers trace her arm, collarbone, daringly. "Gathered that." _

_"You're on pain killers."_

_"Definitely, true." She smiled, lips parted. Promising. _

_"I just don't want you saying things you don't mean, that you'll regret once the medicine wears off," Spencer argues, hands on her chest, stopping her from inching any closer. But the way Robin's lower half arched against hers, and the quick hot rush in her veins was making it hard to do so. "You may be on board now, but you'll hate it, the hiding, I know you will. Then we'd start fighting and avoiding each other, and break up, and regret ever ruining..."_

_Robin has both hands on her cheeks, leading Spencer's lips to hers, silencing the flustered blonde. Counting the one they'd shared a few weeks ago, this was their second kiss, and Spencer still found herself completely addicted, unable to unglue her lips from Robin's. She's tugging at her waist, gently, breathing into it, loving the warmth it made her feel, the rise of flesh all over her. So, they lay for a moment more in the dark hospital room, their mouths moving familiarly through the steps, moving this way, then that, warm, soft, then pressing, releasing._

_"I can't do this anymore, this fucking in-between we're in," Robin's murmuring, pulling away. Her voice was controlled, eyes steady on hers. "You and me, we're solid, kid—and I believe in that, I do. I believe that we can make it, through whatever we have to until graduation. That's only a year away. I can go a year. What I can't do is go a year without knowing you're mine. No one else's. Then it'll be worth it, all of it. Just bet your cute ass I'm going to take advantage of every second of alone time I have with you." She takes a breath, eyeing the girl next to her seriously. "So, what do you say, Spence? Is it worth it for you?"_

_Spencer bites her lip, thoughtfully, absorbing her words. Weighing them. Before she's leaning to press their lips together chastely.__  
><em>"Girlfriend," she whispers, half-smiling. "I like the sound of that."<em>_

"Spencer?"

Shaking the memory away, Spencer blinks, seeing Aiden's hand waving in front of her face.  
>"Huh?—Oh, uhm, sorry about that."<p>

She presses her fingers to her temple willing away any more annoying surprise memories of her dead girlfriend for the time being. Her eyes searched around her briefly, seeing if she'd made too much of a scene, and found only one person currently staring at her. Two tables away, near the window, Ashley was sitting next to her sister, looking her way, and clearly concerned. There were dark smudges under her eyes, the frayed edges of somebody who hasn't slept in awhile, which makes her feel a twinge of concern as well. But the second Spencer's eyes meet hers; she's looking away, continuing to pick at her untouched tray of food. Spencer's eyes linger on the brunette's face, lost in thought._ Well. That was weird._

"It's cool," Aiden amends, bringing her attention back to him. "Unless you do that a lot, which could be a problem if I'm ever in a car with you."

"No, no, I don't, I swear," She rambled, as they settled down at the table. "You're tattoo reminded me of something, is all."

"Got it about a year ago," Aiden supplied hesitantly, sipping his coke, the only normal thing he'd chose for lunch. "Scorpions are among the few creatures truly feared, with everyone. That's something I wanted, along with all the vanity shit. I'm a Scorpio too, so, it kind of fit."

"So, what's...wrong with you?" Spencer asks, after a long moment of debate. "I mean, why are you here?"

"It's a long story, Spence," he answered, evasively, smile fading. "You sure you wanna know?"

"If you want to tell me, I do," She says, back peddling the obviously sensitive question. "How about this? If you tell me why you're here, I'll answer any question you've got."

_You ask me why I'm this way and all I can say is,_  
><em>I've gone through my fair share of shit,<em>  
><em>And you want all I've got, so we'll give it a shot<em>  
><em>I just hope you don't regret it<em>

After a minute, Aiden nods, leaning back in his chair.

"Five months ago, I was put in the hospital," He begins, tone anxious. "When I was younger, I was chubby and got my ass kicked almost every day for it. I wanted to have abs, get all the pretty girls, and just fit in for once, you know? One night, one of those stupid bo-flex infomercials came on. I took one look at those guys, and something snapped—something bad, and _cold_. I thought about starving myself, something effective, if I set my mind to it. I couldn't be weak. The next day, I used my allowance to buy a scale, and hid it where my mother couldn't find it. I weighed myself every night, as well as a constant 300 sit-ups, making a chart so I could write it down. In school, the numbers would always be in my head, like a mantra, something to keep me focused and determined. I clung to them, more than anything else. For months, I'd go days without eating anything more than half a dinner's plate, never getting close to finishing. And that mentality stuck with me until I'd become obsessed, always beating myself up if I'd strayed just a few ounces behind. God, I had really become a monster..."

Aiden sucks in a deep breath of air, looking heavenward. It was obviously digging at old wounds, asking him to do this, but Spencer knew by the determined look in his anguished eyes, that however uncomfortable it made him, Aiden would get past it. After another moment's pause, he did, opening his mouth to speak.

"By my junior year, I'd lost 100 pounds, and I remember being so proud of myself. So proud, that I was blind to the ribs sticking out of my chest, or the hip bones stabbing out from my skin, my sunken in face. I was a seventeen year old, six foot zombie, barely clocking in at 110, and I hated it. It was a few days before Christmas break, that I remember my sickness being at its worst. I hadn't eaten in four days, the longest I'd ever gone. You can guess I wasn't so surprised to hear when I awakened in the hospital that I'd collapsed in class. Severe malnourishment, they called it."

Leaning onto her elbows, Spencer asks, "How'd you end up here?"

"Two months into my recovery, I'd gotten a call from my uncle," He replied, slightly recovered from the solemnity of his story. "He said he'd heard about this program in the summer two towns away, with some tiny, Fairport hotshot therapist that could maybe help me, you know, mentally. Going through that, all those months, really fucks with your brain. It's like I was an alcoholic, you know? I couldn't do it on my own, I'd always be tempted. So, I continued with my scheduled sessions, and gained back a healthy amount of weight—enough to get the doctors off of my back. Otherwise, they'd put me in the hospital again. I'd arrived here a few weeks before summer, and started psychotherapy with Julia, and it's been great. I've got a scheduled, nutrient-filled meal I eat twice a day, along with my exercise that keeps me in great shape. I'm so grateful for what she's done for me, and I'm glad I came here."

Slightly open-mouthed, Spencer gapes at the now smiling teenager.  
>"Wow. And here I thought you were some Warren-Beatty-psycho-undercover-gay working for my dictator religious mother."<p>

Aiden laughs, much too loudly, sending many eyes our way.  
>"Seriously? Damn, you <em>are<em> insane."

"Shut up," Spencer snapped, pinching her lips together to keep from laughing herself. "So, I believe you've earned yourself a question. Lay it on me."

He pretends to think for a moment. "Naw, I think I'll just save that one for a rainy day."

"You're so mean," She gasps, mock glaring. Then, as if the girl was a damn magnet, blue eyes settled on Ashley's table once more minutes later. Spencer taps Aiden's shoulder with her fork, getting his attention away from his tuna sandwich. "Hey, what's her story? Why's she here?"

"Who, Ashley?" Aiden glances over his shoulder, before giving her a strange look. "I think you'd have to ask her that yourself, little Spence."

"Probably not gonna happen, Aid. It's just—something about her," She sighs, utterly confused as to why she even _cared_ to know more about the girl. "Aside from the copious staring, she's...very intriguing."

"And hot," Aiden adds, smiling deviously. "You know, in a Ginger Snaps kind of way."

Responding only with an eye roll, Spencer lets her focus drift onto Ashley again. There was a dark, far-off look in her eyes, a kind of sadness, as if she were troubled by something underneath the surface. Before she can question the possible reasons for it any longer, the brunette's face took on a sudden new composure, almost serene, the fuzzy mocha eyes narrowing into a tight, intelligent focus. Then, her eyes are on Spencer, staring straight into them, as if she'd sensed eyes on her. Spencer barely registers her fork clanking on her plate, too encompassed in her little stare down to notice both Aiden and Kyla glancing between them in confusion.

Much to her astonishment, a small, amused grin struck Ashley's lips then. Taken aback, Spencer sits back in her seat, folding her arms challengingly. She had to admit, she found their staring exchanges kind of thrilling, fascinating, a lively change of the cold water shower as of late. She didn't want to face what that meant, but, there was one thing she knew for sure: This, was _definitely_ going to end badly.

_You ask me why I'm this way and all I can say is, _  
><em>I've got nothing to hide behind<em>  
><em>No excuses to confuse this<em>  
><em>Guess everyone loses, but it's better than living a lie<em>

* * *

><p><strong>R&amp;R.<strong>


	5. Chapter 5 : Comatose

**Disclaimer: South isn't mine.  
><strong>  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong>** I'm shaking it up a bit, with the sister's side of things this chapter. And also, sorry for the long update, it's been a difficult past month. Writing wasn't really the forefront of my thoughts. Oh, right, I kinda sorta recycled a few portions of Boogeyman 2 for this chapter, by the way. It fit with their background, so, yeah.. Nevertheless, hopefully, the next chapter will be out by Monday at the earliest. That reason being, simply, I'm an artist. I've gotta draw a few things for school and it's going to take a bit. Enjoy, guys. :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five : Comatose<strong>

_I down cups of sludge_  
><em>And stay up forever<em>_  
><em>_'Cause I'm too afraid of what happens__  
><em>_When I fall asleep_

...

"How are you today, Ashley?"

"Ashley?"

Ashley Davies looks up from fiddling with her dueling thumbs. Into Julia's calm, patient expression, and lies.

"I'm fine."

"After nine sessions with together," Julia says, fingers interlocking on the desktop. "I think I deserve something more_ honest_ than 'I'm fine.'"

"I know..." Ashley unwinds her own fingers, leaning into her chair. "I'm nervous. Fucking shitless, actually."

Blue eyes flickered behind her, to the one other door in Julia's office Ashley's come to hate since she started the new 'treatment.' They'd tried it three times already, all ending in the young girl nearly sobbing and banging on the door to be let out. The young psychologist had only seen few nyctophobic patients in her short career, let alone took them on. It was just as unnerving and scary to her as it was to Ashley, but she'd ensured her to have a successful treatment plan, even if that meant studying the disorder for countless hours before the brunette and her sister even arrived. The two were her first admissions into Haven House, and even sparked its birth in the beginning after Julia had seen their parent's cold case file on her father's desk. They'd touched something within the small blonde, and everything just went on from there.

_Can't drift away_  
><em>If you keep on holding tight<em>_  
><em>_Trust me, it's not worth the fight_

"You're the one who suggested a more radical approach," She pointed out. "But if you're not ready, we can go back to psychotherapy for awhile."

"No! I'm ready, I just—" Repressing her frustration for the moment, Ashley breathes in deeply. "By now, I hoped that...It just hasn't gotten any _easier_."

"We can try something else, Ashley," Julia suggests, raising her hands. "I don't want you taking on too much too fast."

Ashley turns her head, slowly, eyes daring themselves to find the brown, oak-wood door behind her, takes a breath. Just looking at it, knowing damn well what lay behind the door, sent shudders down her spine. "No, I can do it, Doc," She whispers, finding her voice, trying to convince herself. "I need to—for Kyla."

Julia nods thoughtfully, rising to her feet. "Very well then, let's begin."

_Baby I swear that_  
><em>I don't really know if I'm lying to you<em>  
><em>Or hiding the truth from myself<em>  
><em>And I'm sorry I'm not<em>  
><em>But you deserve to feel dumb<em>  
><em>If you thought I was somebody else<em>

Nimble fingers grip the armrests of her chair, willing rubber legs to life. Julia is patient though, and waits for Ashley, as she always did, leading them towards the door. The younger teen falls behind, eyes glued to Julia's arm reaching out, turning the door handle upwards, and pulling the door open. All, begrudgingly, in snail's-pace slow motion and dead silence, once again guaranteeing that she indeed had forever stitched herself into some horror movie. The door pulls away, revealing the complete and utter darkness inside of the closet. Her breath comes out uneven then, strained, unable to quell the burning in her lungs. Stares into the void. A familiar blackness that took her by the throat and squeezed and would not let go. Filled with unconscious whispers, flames, faces, screams, hands-pulling-tugging-jabbing at her skin.

A small whimper wiggles itself from Ashley's lips.

"How long?"

She flinches underneath her therapist's voice, closes her eyes, and pulls herself together. Fails.  
>"Ten minutes," Ashley gulps, finally. She's going to puke.<p>

"Are you sure?" Julia's hand is on her shoulder, eyeing her discouragingly. "Ashley, that's twice as long as—"

Ashley sends her a look, _I know_, and she's silent. She balls her fists against her numb thighs, squeezing, until her knuckles turned white against her flushed flesh. The ever-prominent scars within her palms tickled restlessly against her sweaty fists, enough to send a small flicker of determination into Ashley's head. Then, takes a step, and another, and another, turns around, her back facing just inches from the darkness of the closet. The hairs on her neck stand up, and her back arches against the goose bumps and overwhelming panic and paranoia. Her eyes meet Julia's, emptying herself into them, fiddling for some sort of safety net, but she knows she's alone in this. She has to be.

Ashley breathes in deeply, and takes a cautious step backwards, and she's enveloped by the darkness. "Close the door." She bites out, before she can argue herself out of this.

Julia does what she's told, and grips the door handle, pulling until it hugged her hip. She gathers Ashley into an immovable, reassuring gaze that sends a stab of warmth into her constricting lungs, before the door closes shut._ Click._

Abruptly then, Ashley became hyper aware of her surroundings, collapsing underneath the claustrophobia of the situation, the slithers of wind pricking at the back of her neck. Trips over something, hears it rattle against the floor, domineering several other objects to fall around her. She swatted down, backing into the wintry whispers filtering into her ears, rocking on her heels and clutched helplessly onto the wall her back smacks into. Braced her hands on the side of her body and closed her eyes taking a few deep calming breaths.

Intermittently, she opens them, entering from one world into the next.

_A world of flames, bright, burning, boiling flames, and the screams of her sister, the dead eyes of her parents in their bed, the smoke filling her lungs. Ashley's eyes swung around hysterically, lighting on every little thing filling her panicked vision. Tears are threatening to fling from her eyes, slowly tearing down her tattered resolve until she could hear herself sobbing. Almost instantly, as she expected, she's met by the glittering eyes of an unknown creature underneath the cover of darkness and a hoodie that stared eerily into her eyes for several seconds while her home burned down around her, before, hauntingly, stepping back, and disappearing behind the engulfing flames billowing down like waves around them. There was something primal in the way she felt then; she was afraid. Afraid to speak to move, as though any ripple in the universe, in time, might tempt the gods to finish the horrific work they'd begun. Until, finally, Ashley turns away from the flames, as she always did within her flashbacks, her nightmares, heart nearly stopped in her chest, body on alert. Because she heard a scream, her sister's scream, and she's stumbling toward it. Soon, the scene is cut, fragmented, and sped up, until she's suddenly staring down at the bloody arm of her sister buried underneath glowing wood. For an agonizing second, she just stands there as her sister burned, breathing shallow, not daring to move._

_Someone whimpers, and everything is being snapped back into place, and Ashley's leaning down. The glowing rubble splayed across her sister's back was covered with hot, searing fire, trapping her underneath, her small childish body powerless against the weight it all. She's pulling at the flames, fingers digging into the crisp oak underneath, and Ashley remembers the pain of her flesh burning being only a dull murmur against the terrified look in her sister's eyes. Nevertheless, the screams she heard then, came from her own mouth as she pulled, until, finally, the debris is moved away from her sister's trembling body. Her tiny arms are reaching out, pressing herself against Kyla's injured form, and wrapping a lanky arm around the scorched pajama material at her waist. Despite the black spots splattered across her vision as they stumbled away, towards the direction of the front door, Ashley managed to cross the treacherous battlefield of falling wood and fire around them. After that, she barely remembers the flash of blue of their front door, before her balance was lost underneath the smoke in her lungs and the pain in her hands. Before her knees are thudding against the carpet, her sister crumbling unconsciously onto the floor next to her. When Ashley's vision goes, she remembers a loud crash, and rays of light flooding into the dimmed space from broken slits in the front door, and the distant calls of the firefighters that eventually carried them both to safety._

"Ashley?"

"Ashley, can you hear me?"

Reality comes crashing down then, and Ashley's eyes aren't filled with fire anymore, but with the concerned eyes of Julia hovering over her. The door was wide open, and a bulb was flickering above them inside the now clustered, wrecked closet. She had been drug a few inches across the closet's doorframe, her torso lying underneath one of Julia's legs. Her fingers are curled around the blonde's forearms, tightly, to the point that little crescent moons were indented into her skin. Reluctantly, as she regained her composure, she pulls herself into a sitting position. Swallows hard and rubs at the pouring tears in her eyes with the heel of her hand. She'd fainted again. _Damnit._

Julia's hands are cradling her face, examining any signs of injury. "It was the fire again, wasn't it? Do you want to talk about it?"

Despite the anger bubbling in her chest, Ashley's lip quivers. "It was..._scarier_, this time. I feel like—like there's something I'm not seeing."

"It did happen when you were just a child, Ashley," She reasons, gently. "You're mind could just be showing you what your younger self was too scared to remember. The hooded figure, for example. You didn't remember until a few years ago. It's a prime, prime symbol for your fear today, one that your parent's death has been feeding for years. Whether that figure is _real_ or not, I'm going to be here to help you deal with. I promise, no matter how difficult it gets."

Rubbing at the bruise on her temple, Ashley murmurs a soft, "Thanks." With that, Julia smiles, helping them both to their feet without a word.

_I know that you checked my pulse_  
><em>To see if I was freaking out<em>  
><em>'Cause you were freaking out<em>  
><em>But I remain comatose<em>  
><em>From coast to coast<em>

"We're definitely done for the day," She says, gently patting the brunette's slouched shoulder. "Go to your room, and get some rest. If not, just _relax_, play that guitar of yours. Okay?"

Julia ushers her to the door, and Ashley leaves the room in silence, her feet nothing more than fleshly pads on bare wood. It was just before sundown, and Haven house was silent, slumbering, preparing for the coming nighttime. The stairs did not creak, also seeming to succumb to the silence around them. As she came upon the top of the stairs, the first strains of music reached her ears, tinny, low, and very familiar. Melodies of strings, a guitar. Ashley inched down the hall, strangely calm, moving carefully and precisely. She stood in front of her door, reaching out with her whole hand, and gently pushed it open. Dim light spills out into the dark hall in an arc. Inside, two bodies are illuminated by the bedside lamp's light, lying motionlessly, side by side.

Ashley's mind instantly flashes to the fire once more, finding her parent's forever asleep in their bed. She shakes it away, and stepped into the room, ignoring the shadows of darkness around her.

* * *

><p>Ashley squints, confused eyes adjusting to the darkness.<br>"Spencer?"

At the sound of Ashley's voice, blue eyes snapped open, and gave the alarmed girl a sheepish glance. Kyla was lightly snoring beside Spencer who was resting an arm behind her head, the sheet tangled around her body as though she was restless. Their hands were tangled together between them, with Kyla's seeming to be grasping tight enough for the veins to show in prominent fashion. Getting closer again, Ashley bent low to her sister, eye level. Saw the dried tears on her flushed cheeks, and traced her thumb across her eyebrow.

"What happened?" Ashley whispers, never taking her eyes off her sleeping sister.

Kyla's eyes were flickering frantically underneath bagged eyelids, and, given what she'd just experienced, Ashley could never imagine having to see such traumatic things every time she closed her eyes. Even still, the young girl still managed to smile every day, still be optimistic, and _happy_. She was much stronger than Ashley gave her credit for.

Instead of answering, Spencer untangled herself from Kyla with the greatest care, so as not to wake her.  
>"Can we go outside?" She asks, timidly. "I don't want to wake her."<p>

The older Davies sister hesitates a moment longer, watching her sister, before standing. Spencer's there, her eyes seeming to shine in the darkened room, not blue though, but a bright glowing jungle green. Ashley lingers on them, faintly thinking about how eerily beautiful they were, until Spencer's motioning for them to go outside of the room. Once they stepped into the hall, Spencer shuts the door quietly, back pressing against it, and faced the overwhelmed brunette.

"She had a nightmare," She explains, with raised hands. Ashley breathes out a breath she didn't know she was holding, moving to stand against the wall beside her. Spencer, hesitant, folds fidgeting arms over her chest. "It sounded like a really bad nightmare. I mean, she was screaming—and I knocked but no one answered. She's okay now though, I got her to calm down. She's sleeping again, thanks to that CD I found on your desk."

"My guitar recordings," The brunette murmurs back, distractedly, before mocha eyes are on her. "How'd you know that would work?"

"Good guess?" Spencer chances, biting her lip. But the brunette's eyes haven't left her face, still narrowed in thought, just _staring_, enough to make her crack underneath their weight. "The walls are kind of thin." Her brow cocks, and blue eyes widen. "I mean, not that I'm purposely listening in on your conversations. It isn't like that, I swear, it's just really quiet in my room, and it's kind of inevitable to—"

"I get it," Ashley cuts in finally, catching her bottom lip in her teeth, trying not to smile. She'd found others ramblings much akin to dogs chasing their tales, awkwardly adorable. "Guess it kind of came in handy this time, so, thank you, really."

"No problem," Spencer replies, short but sincere enough. "I'd pick Kyla's night terrors over having to watch Aiden's constant flexing any day."

Ashley nods, shrugging. "Or his sweaty man nipples."

Spencer makes a disgusted face, smiling for the first time. "Definitely not."

The taller brunette receives the small smile, and the teen's softening demeanor, and feels herself relaxing as well. Spencer shakes away the smile, eyes landing on the space in front of them, soon deep in thought. The two of them stood there for a short moment, each mentally calculating what'd be the less awkward route to take next. Spencer's mouth opens, closes, as does hers, and then they're laughing. Feeling herself oddly without words, confused, Ashley turns her head, and catches the side of Spencer's face casually. The hallway lights bounced off the skin there, and her two pretty blue eyes seemed to glow. Spencer was just a girl really, who'd gone through something tragic and horrible, but still clearly very human. But she was guarded, and broken, and vulnerable, and so very angry that it made Ashley shudder every single time she looked her in the eye.

_It's not my fault__  
><em>_If I can't see_  
><em>How you could fall so easily<em>  
><em>And I am never going to be<em>  
><em>What you saw inside of me<em>

Brown eyes fall, onto Spencer's crossed arms, and Ashley finally realizes the girl's arms weren't covered. More specifically, her wrists weren't covered. Her hair was slightly stringy and damp, so, Ashley guessed she had recently taken a shower and hadn't put on her bandages. Spencer was dressed in a white beater and worn out jean shorts, the perfect poster child of a typical Ohio breed beauty. (And boy was she beautiful, Ashley thinks to herself. Maybe if they'd met in a different time and place, and both weren't clinically insane, Ashley would've definitely asked for her number.) But not many of those beauties have scars on their wrists, or, were dumped into some Nuthouse states away. She was someone who clearly didn't deserve this life she'd been thrown into, then again, neither did any of them.

"Does it hurt?"

The question surprised the both of them, so much so, that Ashley wants to take it back immediately. Instead of answering, Spencer peered down at her hands for a painful minute, silent and thoughtful. "Not so much anymore."

She'd created some distance, too quickly for her liking, and Ashley wanted to fix that. Turning, she presses her left shoulder against the wall, and faces the solemn teenager with new found brass. Lightens the mood. "You know, apart from the whole creepy staring episodes these past few days, this is the first actual conversation we've had. I don't know whether to shake your hand or back away slowly."

It works because Spencer's softening again, blue eyes sweeping up to meet hers with strained curiosity. But then lips parted, and tiny white teeth showed through, like pearls. Ashley watches, fascinated by every emotion striking the girl's face in those precious seconds, as she reaches out a hand between the small space between them.

"Hi," She whispers, blue eyes glittering with polite mirth. "I'm Spencer Carlin."

"Ashley Davies, pleasure to meet you," Ashley replies, taking her hand briefly. Smiles. "See? Wasn't nearly as awkward as you'd thought it'd be."

"I guess not." Spencer laughs, looking to the floor. The brunette actually sees a faint blush paint the girl's cheeks then, and Spencer's breathing out, looking more comfortable than she's seen her since they'd met. Ashley's just about to say something else, when she hears shuffling inside her room.

She sighs, "I should probably get in there."

"Oh, yeah, go ahead." Spencer quickly moves aside, shifting on her feet until she's standing in front of her own door. "I'll just be in my room."

With a partial wave, Ashley makes her way through her doorframe, before stopping, feeling the urge to step into the hallway. To just _see_. She does. Ashley watches Spencer, hand gripping the doorknob and twisting, before she realizes Spencer's name has dropped from her mouth, much higher than intended. But that didn't matter anymore because the girl's looking her way now, waiting, and Ashley clears her throat. "I just wanted to say, uh. Thanks again. It's nice to know someone could be there for her when I'm not."

Blue eyes squint into hers; giving her a strange look she surely walked into.  
>"I'm glad to help," Spencer answers, earnestly.<p>

When she turns away again, Ashley, still underneath the spell of verbal diarrhea, calls her name once more. Great, Davies, the first time a girl's even talked to you without tripping over her feet out the door, you freak her out with the name game? Smooth.

Surprisingly, Spencer looks more amused than creeped out.  
>"Yeah?"<p>

Ashley's fingers grip the doorframe.

"I'm sorry about Robin."

* * *

><p><strong>R&amp;R.<strong>


	6. Chapter 6 : Binoculars

**Disclaimer: South isn't mine.**  
><strong><br>Author's Note: Also had been edited a bit, but it's for the best.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six : Binoculars<strong>

_I'm a peeping tom, I shamelessly watch the windows next to me_  
><em>When it's dark outside, there's nowhere they can safely hide<em>_  
><em>I can see you when you're getting ready to go out<em>_

Thursday morning, Spencer dressed carefully. Thoroughly folding her worn clothes into the hamper beside her open luggage bag. A full week into her stay and she still couldn't bring herself to warm up to her bedroom in Haven House, let alone the house itself. It wasn't her home. Her _home_ wasn't even her home anymore.

_And all the stuff you're embarrassed about_  
><em>And when you sing off-key, I can't hear you<em>  
><em>But I see that your mouth is moving<em>

She'd risen early, earlier than her usual insomnia-dead-girlfriend-memories-ridden-five A.M. ritual. Showered quietly while everyone slept in, towel dried her hair, and quickly dressed. All the while pacing at her bedside. The nerves were to blame, of course, because tomorrow was her first official group session. No finger painting, no self portraits, no laughing and joking around. _Tomorrow_, she would sit with a group of strangers and just _talk_. About what, she didn't know exactly, but cared enough to mildly obsess over. Because after Friday, she'd possibly know a lot more about these strangers than she'd ever care to. Her _only_ purpose of being here was to get better, a promise to her father, not to make friends with crazy people. But she was here, wasn't she? She was crazy, too, if anything, and there wasn't any reason for her not to befriend others on her road to rehabilitation. Even if that road bore strait jackets and barred pad-locked doors. In a matter of _days_, Spencer had already found some sort of friendship in Aiden Dennison, much to her surprise. But it was inevitable, their twisted little comradery. Even though he constantly objectified her every chance he got, and possessed the attention span of a housefly, Spencer slowly let herself embrace all that Aiden had to offer. Because he deserved the branch, they all did. Who was she to decide her place to be higher in the hell they all seemed to be living in?

Shaking away her thoughts, Spencer throws herself onto her mattress face first, groaning into the too-thin sheets. The birds chirped happily outside her window, and she finds her head raising off of the mattress just enough to catch the morning rays tittering through the trees. The feeling of warmth on her air-conditioned skin gave her goosebumps. For the third time in her life, she wishes she were a bird. Flying free, weightless, dancing and dancing and _dancing_ through the clouds.

_Can you see me?_

As if on cue, the first familiar notes of guitar strings reached her ears. Peeking out from one eye, she holds onto the music as it drifted from downstairs, barely audible, but still gentle and comforting. Inside her head, she could almost imagine Ashley, probably sitting on the very same couch she'd seen her and Kyla laying on, hunched over her guitar, that same intense focus in her eyes as she strummed the strings. Or, maybe, her expression would be serene, and fair, much like she'd just only grazed just recently. She almost smiles at the image.

Because, before her lips could even lift the tiniest fraction, her mind jump starts back to last night. Hearing Kyla's faint whimpers through her napkin walls, the way her fingers gripped onto her shirt in her sleep, pulling her close. The way her sister's eyes just _seeped_ concern and alarm, seeing them together on the bed. The way Ashley's breathing became nonexistent, unimportant, compared to her sibling's safety and health. Spencer remembered the not-so-bad things from last night's nightmare, too, like the brunette's feathery laugh, and her smile. And chocolate eyes, studying her face, innocently, before straying back, and taking whatever they were searching for with them. Spencer liked to think it was the girl's way of feeling her out still, testing the waters, and she herself would be lying if she said she hadn't also did the same during their brief encounter. She couldn't help it. Just as her heart did with Aiden, it latched onto something inside Ashley Davies' eyes, and Spencer knew it'd be completely pointless to stay away from her for too long. The same could be said about the youngest Davies sister, as well. Which only made it all worse. Spencer breathes in deep, and looks down at the shining metal chain glinting off of the sunlight. Again, the weight of the dreamcatcher is pushing against her collar bone, taunting, always reminding her. And for that, she hated herself even more.

_I only watch you when I'm bored_  
><em>You replace all the gadgets that I can't afford<em>

This is when something _else_ from last night resurfaces, and blue eyes open in their entirety. Ashley's words, apologizing for Robin's tragedy, saying Robin's _name_. Her name. _How the hell..._ The confused brunette lifts herself up, weighing herself on a wobbling elbow. Because Spencer had _never_ relied Robin's name onto the other patients in the house. And yet, a girl residing in a nuthouse states away, knew more than any of them. Her ears find the music beneath her again, and she's bolting off of the bed and sprinting out of the room.

_Please don't be creeped out by me_  
><em>But you're my miniature TV<em>  
><em>Comb your hair and brush your teeth so obliviously<em>

Taking swift, careful strides down the staircase, Spencer's fingers grip the banister and propelled herself around to meet the entrance of the main hall. There, she was met by a hard chest that nearly knocks her off her feet. Thankfully, the owner of the stone chest reaches out an arm, stopping her from hitting the ground.

"Oh, god, sorry," Spencer apologizes, steadying herself. "I wasn't watching..."

First, she notices that it was indeed Sean she'd collided into. However, the last time she'd spoken to him he donned a tamed afro and an oversized tee. This young man, however anatomically exact, had his hair pulled into a tight pony tail, and wore dark blue jeans, a dress shirt, and bright blue bow tie. Even the sage, narrowness of his eyes and lifted chin, made him look ten years older. Ten seconds ago, he would've been laughing the run-in off and smiling like he always did. But the reserved, polite expression his face held then proved otherwise. More importantly, he seemed, well, like a completely different person. Despite her gawking, the young man in question was patiently waiting in front of her, lanky body standing straight and alert. Spencer blushes, looking away immediately, scratching the back of her neck.

"...where I was going," She finishes finally, cursing herself. "Sean, right?"

A wave of something crosses Sean's face then. "More or less, sweetheart."

Spencer raises an eyebrow upon hearing the new, distinct roughness in Sean's voice. But her confusion is put on hold when she sees the younger man bracing his lower back, the way his face pinched uncomfortably. "Are you okay?" She probes, guiltily. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"I wish, doll, but sadly my age is to blame for this one," Sean dismissed, giving her a weak smile, before he recovered. "Haven't stood right in forty years, not since the war."

She chuckles to herself, pushing at his shoulder. "The war? Sean, you're only a boy."

Instead of hearing his laugh, the brunette looks up to find that his expression was the same. Dark brown eyes holding something she could only describe as sympathy, yet, there was no mirth there. Maybe even a fringe of fear. He was _serious_? Spencer stares at him, disbelievingly, until she realizes he wasn't playing some practical joke on her. And also, that she didn't really know anything about Sean other than that he payed frequent visits to the hospital. And that he likes to occasionally impersonate a war veteran? She shifts on her feet, taking it all in, before the real answer dawned on her. Sean wasn't acting the same person because maybe he _wasn't_ the same person. Maybe this was what his _condition_ was? Biting her lip, she reaches for the words. The _right_ words.

Spencer looks him in the eye. "What's—your—name?"

Sean visibly softens, and squares his shoulders respectfully. "Private Alfred James II. Pleasure to have your acquaintance, Miss...?" A hand is offered to her, one that she awkwardly shakes. His grip is firm, and strong, like her fathers. It was oddly comforting.

"Spencer Carlin...Sir," She supplies, smiling gently. Though, part of her still wished this was a joke. Because _this_, was so confusing, and strange, and scary. She didn't know what to say or do, without making the older man in front of her any more vulnerable by the reveal.

"You sure are a pretty young thing," Sean—rather _Alfred_ chimes in, jarring her from her thoughts. He's smiling at her, eyes glossy with unseen memories. Alfred winks, and pats her hand that's still enveloped in his own. "If I weren't married, and forty years younger, I might ask you for out for a milkshake or two."

"That's very sweet, Alfred, thank you," Spencer replies, blushing. However, the compliments are cut short because music is in her ears again, and reminding Spencer of her previous task. She gives him an apologetic glance. "I'm so sorry, but there's someone I need to speak to."

"Quite alright, Miss Carlin," Alfred averts gingerly, waving away her worries. Kissing her hand, and he steps away. "Until we meet again."

Spencer softens, finding the gesture terribly sweet. "Until then," She whispers, watching him disappear around the corner. Wrapping her arms around herself, she rests her back against the wall of the doorway, pondering over the dozens of questions their encounter flooded into her head. She'd never met a person with multiple or split personalities, and it was stranger than she'd ever imagined.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Spencer's head snaps up, out of her thoughts, and she's met by none other than Kyla's frail, concerned face. The brunette is standing in front of her, a warm hand on her forearm.

"Sorry, I just," Spencer laughs, her cheeks on fire," spaced out there for a second. Activity day start yet? I haven't missed anything, have I?"

"No, we've still got an hour," Kyla answered, walking with her down the hallway leading towards the dining room. Once they reach entrance, she stops them. "Hey, listen, I just wanted to thank you for last night. I know I probably freaked you out."

"A little. I'm just glad you're okay _now_," Spencer admits, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "That's enough for me."

Kyla smiles. "Good. That means a lot."

Spencer sighs into the girl's kind words, breathing out a small smile, and folds her arms. Once again, the alternating melodies emanating from inside the room invites her in. Resting a shoulder against the door frame, she searched the few occupants in the room until her eyes came to finally rest on Ashley. As she guessed, the brunette was sitting against the armrest on the couch with crossed legs, a beautiful sparkling acoustic guitar hugged her chest. The soft notes swirled from Ashley's nimble fingers plucking effortlessly at the strings of the guitar, and it all fell down around Spencer seductively. Brown eyes were trained on the window in front of her, too wrapped up in the marvelous yellow light painting her skin, and the comforting warmth, and the glittering sparks refracting dozens of multicolored diamonds against her cheeks...and Spencer couldn't look away. _Wow._ It was beautiful. She was beautiful. A sight she thinks, that if Robin were here, would instantly cause the girl to pull out her camera and snap a picture for her portfolio. And Spencer ignores the guilt in her chest, latched onto Robin's name, and just focused on the girl in front of her. For months she'd shut out music from her life, her best friend's favorite past time, unable to take on the pain it'd caused. But, now, and the few times before this moment, hearing it, raw and passionate and _real_. Because this music, _god_, this music, was filling her whole, and giving her something—_anything_ to hold onto for only this second. Only this _minute_, other than pain, and heartache, and grief.

_When your lights are off, I wonder where you go_  
><em>'Cause I wanna serenade you from my window<em>

Beside her, Kyla quirks a smile, but doesn't say anything, nothing at all that'd break whatever the hell she's indirectly witnessing. And Spencer, she just stood there, listening to everything the older Davies sister was pouring out of her guitar with rapt attention. And when her devious eyes are seeing those lips moving, and then actual words spilling out of them in soft, gentle, perfect harmony and grace, her heart starts pinging excitedly in her chest. _She's singing_, it practically screams, _she's singing!_ Spencer's mouth opens on its own accord and makes a senseless noise in response, a word her buzzing, incoherent brain simply cannot transcribe.

Abruptly, the wonderful noise stops. Ashley's head is turning, and mocha eyes are on the two of them. _SHIT._ Blue eyes widen into saucers, and Spencer's shoulder slips from the edge of the door frame, and she barely catches herself from toppling into the corner. Beside her, Kyla's covering her mouth to stifle her chuckling. If it weren't for it being cruelly infectious, Spencer would've frogged her in the knee, but no, she's laughing with her—_actually laughing! The kind that pinched your stomach and you can't breath. God, how long has it been since she's done that?_

_I can sit and be amused by your scandalous dance moves__  
><em>And if you're sick of dancing alone, I will come and dance with you<em>_

"Smooth," Kyla jokes, patting her shoulder. Twists her hips to imaginary music. "With that balance, you must be a fox on the dance floor."

Still laughing, Spencer wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. "Is that a proposition I hear?"

"Not even in your dreams!" She gasps, snickering to herself. "Besides, you couldn't handle this, Carlin. I'm _so_ outta' your league."

This propels them both into a whole new level of giggles, which somehow led them through the doorway, and directly in front of Ashley Davies herself. Who was still sitting with her guitar pressed firmly into her side, and stared up at us with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

"What's so funny?"

Kyla clears her throat, calming herself. "You don't want to know, Sis."

Ashley's eyes narrowed into her sisters accusingly, before glancing at Spencer, who was still smiling faintly. But one sharp look from Ashley made her sober up, fast, and she again remembers the reason she came downstairs in the first place. Shifting on her feet, she turns to Kyla. "Can I talk to Ashley alone for a minute? I've got to ask her something."

"Um, okay. Sure. Ashley?" She raises, the frown on her pretty face determined and authoritative. "Spencer's cool. Be nice."

The girl in question only rolls her sun-stained eyes in halfhearted annoyance, and set aside her guitar. Kyla giggles, and drops a kiss on her cheek, before treading off to sit with Clay on the opposite end of the room. Ashley's brows draw together, just as confused as Kyla was by the request, but motioned for her to sit anyway. Spencer does, of course, though her heart's beating faster than she'd like it to right now. But before she could open her mouth to speak, Ashley's leaning in her personal space, and any prepared speech or questions she had inside her head were gone.

"You want to know how I knew Robin's name," She alludes gently, with raised eyebrows. Slightly stunned by the accurate accusation, Spencer settles for a slight nod. But the quirk of Ashley's lips is gone now, and she's guiltily looking down at her hands. "Okay, look. I saw your file the day before you arrived. I was in a session with Julia, she left, and it was open on her desk. The newspaper clipping was the first thing I saw, apart from your picture. But _I promise_ those were the only things I saw. I know I shouldn't have invaded your privacy like that. It wasn't my place, and I'm very sorry."

Spencer stared unbelievingly at her for a moment, before finding her words again. Part of her was relieved, since her imagination had run away with her to much more complicated and dramatic reasons for her knowledge. But Ashley was staring at her now, _pouting_ for god's sake, and the last thing she felt was anger, or annoyance.

"It's...," Spencer began, biting her lip in thought. "It's okay. Really. Apology accepted. Just don't do it again."

Ashley nodded, half smiling. "Not unless you want me to, Carlin."

Leaning back into the cousins, Spencer groans a little. "Why do I get the feeling you use that pout to your advantage a lot?"

"Because I do," Ashley replies cheekily, eyes glinting with dangerous mirth."You'll come to find that I'm pretty adorable."

Spencer blinks, hoping she was imagining her almost flirtatious tone. "What makes you think it'll work on me?"

And when she sees Ashley smile then, it was a knowing smile; confident. "Oh, it already has."

_Well I'll come dance with you (Can you see me?)_

"Well, well," says a voice behind Spencer, low and venomous. Madison. Mocha eyes flash, glaring above her head. "Buttering up the basketcase, that's smart, Davies. Careful now, don't breaking anything, or she might drown herself this time."

"What did you say?" Spencer instantly coils, lifting herself off of the couch. But Ashley's hand is on her arm, tugging her back down, a warm, hot, hand resting warningly on her knee. She eyes the hand intently, swallowing back the tears in her eyes, and almost immediately, her anger dissolves. _Huh._

"Isn't it time for your session?" Ashley questions beside her, smiling crisply. "Wouldn't want to keep Doc waiting, would we? Especially after last time?"

A pause. "Have a nice day."

When Ashley speaks five seconds later, it's more wounded than she'd ever heard it. "You _can't_ let her get to you. Madison's a sociopath, Spencer, and a pretty demented one at that. Which is why we try to stay clear of her out of Group. Especially after she convinced Matt to drink a bottle of Windex after he'd accidentally swallowed a fly. He's been in the hospital for a week, but he should be released once he can hold down food longer than half an hour. Stay away from her because sociopath's are manipulative, controlling, and dangerous. She doesn't care about anyone; only what she can get out of us."

Spencer looks away from Ashley's eyes, and into the sunshine raining down on them.  
>"What did she do to end up here anyway?"<p>

The couch dips, and Spencer notices that their side by side, knees touching. "She stabbed her English teacher in the back, literally."

"Classy," Spencer deadpanned, cringing. But her thoughts bring her elsewhere. "So...What did she do to _you_?"

"I'll save that for another day, Carlin," Ashley whispers, sucking in a deep breath of air. The silence is off, filled with unanswered questions. Spencer doesn't like it. "I should go restring Marilyn before group starts. I need something to distract me from Madison's narcissistic rants and Clay's temper tantrums."

With a raised brow, Spencer watches her stand with her guitar. "You named your guitar?"

"And you wouldn't?" The brunette challenges, as if it were normal. "The only woman that's stuck with me through it all, besides Kyla, of course."

But her lips curve teasingly, until she's grinning hard enough for her nose to crinkle. Spencer thinks she wouldn't mind seeing _that_ every day, along with hearing Kyla's laugh, and even Aiden exercising daily. Because it meant that, in their own way, they were slowly winning against whatever demons inside them. She envied them.

"Of course," Spencer whispers to herself, watching Ashley bounding away. A ghost of a smile reaches her lips, and she lies horizontally on the couch. Lets the sunshine from the outside cover her entirely, a lovely, warm blanket of light. Closes her eyes. And when she dreams inside the yellow warmth, the gentle, lulling sound of a guitar is all she hears.

_I'll come dance with you if you want me to_

* * *

><p><strong>R&amp;R.<strong>

**P.S. : Oh yes. Ashley's mad guitar skills/singing literally gave Spencer an eargasm. Just go with it. ;P**


End file.
